


Office Fantasy

by slimesurgeon



Category: Awful Hospital (Webcomic)
Genre: Masturbation, Office, Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 18:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17065166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slimesurgeon/pseuds/slimesurgeon
Summary: Even as Dr. Phage's assistant, it's unsurprising that a mere greyzoner like you is only tasked with menial work. You don't get to see the great doctor nearly as much as you wish, and it makes you worry about his opinion on you. All you know is that you want to get as close to him as you possibly can.-Reader is ambiguous gender with ambiguous genitals.-No sex, just masturbation.





	Office Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> My first Awful Hospital fic from earlier this year! I loosely call it a Phage/Reader, because honestly...there isn't exactly romance. If you're looking for that, you'll be disappointed. I intended for this fic to be as close to how Phage would act canonically as I could guess. 
> 
> And the smut... truthfully, was thrown in to make it more palatable to other readers. Really, the self indulgence here is simply my fantasy of seeing Phage's office haha. Which, by the way, is based on some old concept art Bogleech had shared, so it's probably not accurate to what we'll (hopefully?!) eventually see in the comic.

You sweep the floor of the hallway, listening only to the intermittent sounds of Zoe turning another page of her book an the little hum of sound coming from the TV on her desk. She wasn't much of a talker, but it's nice to have some kind of company while all the doctors we're virtually ghosts these d#@ys, preoccupied with that crazy case you've heard about in only passing snippets of conversation. When Dr. Phage agreed to take you on as an assistant, you didn't exactly have janitorial duty in mind, but it's admittedly true that at this time, there's not much a greyzoner like you could personally help him with—not to mention he's concerned you'd end up getting infected. It's lonely without him and everyone else, but nonetheless you are helping to do a job that needs to be done. The halls were in shambles before you cleaned up; no one else can afford to divert their attention to cleaning. 

As you sweep the accumulated pile of dust into your dustpan, some of it poofs up towards your face, making you sneeze. “Boy, this floor was dirty,” you say to Zoe, knowing already she wouldn't respond but simply turn another page, as if you weren't there at all. You stare at her for a second, and then back at the floor to scan it over in silence. Seems like you got everything—time to move on to the next hallway. 

You bend down to pick up and pan, but as your bottom bumps into the door behind you, you hear a faint creek. You freeze in place, hand still hovering over the pan handle, eyes wide like you've seen a ghost. You turn your head slowly over your shoulder to peer at the pink door behind you—Phage's office door—and to your disbelief, you observe that it's open a crack. Your heart pounds, your body still frozen in position. You look at Zoe nervously, but it it doesn't seem she noticed at all. You can't believe it—he must have accidentally not shut it all the way the last time he went out. Has that ever happened? You know how he is about his office. You've never even seen it before. You're not all that sure if it's because he doesn't want you to, or because he's just to busy to have taken you in yet, all you know is that he's very protective of it and usually make it a point to keep it locked at all times. 

Quickly, you grab the pan as originally planned and straighten yourself back up, almost with a jump. You slowly slide the bristles of the broom towards the door, poorly making it look like an accident when you hit the bottom of the door and it creaks open a little bit more. You cringe at the sound that threatens to give you away. Your eyes are fixed on Zoe, internally pleading for her not to notice. She still shows no signs of reacting, but when you hit the door again and it creaks louder, you decide to take it upon yourself to talk over the noise--

“SOOO...” you feel your heartbeat in your throat. Zoe turns another page of her book, like nothing happened still. 

“Ph-Phage told me he wanted m-me to clean up in here so I guess I'm g-gonna,” you stammer quickly and push the door the rest of the way open, never taking your eyes off of Zoe. She gestures some kind of dismissive, jiggly shrug. You shuffle your feet into the doorway, and shout a quick “so yeah!” before zooming in and slamming the door shut behind you with the weight of your back against it. 

You breathe quickly and heavily, adrenaline pumping through you, and drop the broom and pan onto the floor to spill its mess. You feel the tingle of fear up your spine as you momentarily consider what kind of consequences you might face for being in Phage's office without permission and lying about it on top of it. It's too late to turn back now though. 

When your breath finally slows down, your eyes light up and your fear is replaced with excitement. It's a small room, encompassed by walls of a whimsical blue patterned wallpaper adored with various anatomical posters. Before you is an almost sparse spread of furniture—file cabinets, shelves, and the likes—on top of which sit a variety of colorful looking jars of fluids with preserved creatures or organs inside, and models of what you guess are organs or perhaps enlarged microorganisms. You pace slowly around the room to inspect it all eagerly, stepping around the absolute mess of empty yogurt cups scattered all over the floor. You think, perhaps, you may as well make this exploit at least somewhat truthful and tidy up as you go, collecting an armful of cups and dropping them all in the trash. Thanks to them, the whole room smells like strawberry with a tinge of sour dairy, but it doesn't bother you in the least—It's what Phage smells like, and since you haven't gotten to see a lot of him lately, it gives you a comforting sense of being surrounded by him. You take your time picking up the rest off the floor, smiling and sighing in a happy hum. 

When you've finished that task, you finally make your way to desk in the middle of the room, which you've subconsciously been saving for last. The top of it is mauve and patterned like the walls. Sitting on top is a little portable TV on it like Zoe has, an open laptop, a mug holding writing utensils, a big unorganized clutter of files and papers, and yet more partially empty yogurt cups. Behind the desk there isn't a chair to sit, but a blue milk crate you suppose he must stand on to reach. With your size in comparison, though, you have no trouble sitting down on it and keeping full access to all the little treasures laid out and waiting for you. 

With a big grin on your face, your eyes dart back and forth and you hands hover eagerly over everything, wondering what you should look at first. Your heart speeds up again, knowing full well this naughty deed will land you in trouble should anyone find out, but you just can't stop yourself. You sift through papers, not knowing what to look for, just reading anything that pops out at you. There's some notes on current patients in care, a lot of medical jargon...you find what appears to be some kind of employee evaluation on Dr. Mizer; in Phage's words, it reads, “Doctor Mizer's work ethic has overall been dependable, but he has been complaining too much, despite my explicit guideline that he is allotted exactly 37.2 complaints per every quarter spiraling. This is your final warning, Phleboto, or else I will have to retroactively reduce your vacation time!” 

Shuffling through more documents, you, unsurprisingly, find an evaluation he wrote about himself: “It is of almost unanimous agreement that Dr. Phage's workplace performance has continued to be infallible and flawless. The objecting opinions are negligible; they're obviously jealous of my supreme intellect and dashing fashion sense, however professionally and ethically obligated I am to acknowledge their opinions at all.” 

You can't help but sigh dreamily and lay your face cheek down on the desk, nuzzling against the paper. His ego-centrism is charming your eyes—what makes you so drawn to him and fuels your desire to be of service to him, even if you don't fully understand why. All you know is that doing so makes you feel complete, and without him around you feel empty. At least now, in this room, you feel serene, as thought surrounded by a ghost of his presence. Your head still laying atop the desk, you squirm in your seat, reacting to the lustful longing that's finally reaching your groin.

You reach for the yogurt cups, tipping each one into your view until you pick the one out with the most yogurt left inside. Sniffing it, you decide this one must be newer and still unspoiled, and so you stick a few of your fingers in to scoop its sweet strawberry contents into your mouth. It's essentially how Phage does it—he just sort of sticks one of his little legs inside and scoops it up, though in his case making a sloppy mess in the process. You close your eyes as you repeat the process, licking and sucking your fingers indulgently, imagining what it would be like to lick it off him instead. 

Your free hand wanders down to the seat of your pants and you paw at your lap, which is growing hotter with arousal. Am I really gonna do this? Here? Where I can get caught? You're already this far though, and who knows when you'll ever get a chance like this again. Besides, the chances of Phage returning are slim, considering the fact that when he leaves his office to deal with that catastrophe of a patient case, he's gone for what may as well be an eternity. He'll never know. You need this. 

You pull your pants and underwear off gracelessly and drop them onto the floor. Being exposed feels dirty, but thrilling. Pulling your head up from the desk finally, and careful to use your non-sticky hand, you open Phage's laptop—the last item you particularly want to snoop through. You're presented with a lock-screen, and without hesitation you type “DRHMPHAGE” into the field. It's the password he uses for almost everything that has a password in the Hospital, so you're not surprised when you're logged in without fail. What does surprise you is that there's a text document still open from the last he was using the laptop, and you immediately spot your name at the top of it. It seems that he was in the process of typing evaluation about you, or perhaps, giving its differing format, it was some sort of personal journal entry: 

“Despite my initial skepticism taking them on, this greyzoner has proven to be highly proficient and methodical in their work assisting me thus far. Though they're not cut out for any kind of medical work, I daresay I've never had someone so zealous to do other very crucial tasks like “get me another snack” or “listen to my genius evaluation about the benefits and dangers of core concept submultification”. Finally, someone who appreciates and knows how to praise an amazing doctor when they see one! 

It's also noteworthy that they seem to have adapted the zone very quickly and fluidly. I foresee great potential—perhaps even entrusting them with more important assignments! They didn't say anything about wanting to leave any time soon, did they?”

Your face is flushed, and your heart is beating fast. “Highly proficient,” “great potential”...These words mean a lot coming from him. It seems he really values your presence, so much so he'd like you to stick around. The top of your body melts down onto the desk in a dreamy haze. “Oh Phage...” you sigh, closing your eyes and finally giving in to stroking your already dripping arousal. 

Your mind is filled with him—how handsome he is, the sound of his voice, how you love to hear him talk and you just can't get enough. This isn't the first time you've gotten off to thinking about him, but it is, of course, the first time here, at his desk, in his chair, in his personal space you've dreamed about being in, and now you will leave your imprint; it's a way to commingle with him in a way you otherwise won't ever. 

At least probably not. You can dream. You've thought about it. Just like this, touching yourself, growing hotter and breathing heavier and heavier until you're panting. You can picture it in your head—Get down on your knees, greything, and make your mouth useful! Oh, you'd show him proficient and methodical, if that's what he wanted. In your wildest fantasies, you would do it here in his office—all the better you now know what it looks like. 

“Ahh Phage, oh Phage..” you moan softly, speeding up your pace. You feel yourself getting close, fluids dripping between your thighs. How you long to have him on top of you, putting you in your place. You'd cater to his every desire, giving him the servitude and praise he rightfully deserves as the greatest doctor ever! How wonderful it would be to feel so powerless yet complete, subdued by your boss! You want to touch him, hold him, kiss him...you wouldn't dream of leaving him, no, you'll stay here for all eternity if you can if just to look at him every d#@y. 

He's amazing, so amazing. You cry out his name again as your orgasm rolls through your body, leaving you feeling tingly and warm, and limp atop the desk. You've made a little mess—your drool on the desk and your cum dripping down between the holes of the crate and onto the floor—but you pay no mind. You run your fingers through your hair with your free hand, leaving the other to rub yourself ever so softly as your rapture fizzles out pleasantly. Your eyes still closed, you pant softly, “Mmm Phage... Phage...”

“Yes?” a familiar voice answers. 

Your eyes snap to attention and you shoot up in your seat instantly, throwing your hands down to cover your shame. The color drains from your face. “D-Doctor Phage..! I...I was just..! Just uh...!” you mentally scramble to find some kind of words of excuse to give the little doctor making his way from the door to the desk. 

“Oh I know! Zoe told me you had come in to clean my office. She's really on top of things, knowing what I tell people to do before I even know that I was going to tell them to do it! That's why I hired her! You did a nice job picking up the place.” 

As Phage scuttles closer, you squeeze your legs together and hunch over, covering yourself as much as possible. “W-Wait! Hold on, I uh-!” 

The doctor stops and tilts his head curiously for a moment. Not that you can see where his “eyes” are looking, but you're sure enough he's looking at your...lack of pants. 

“Oh... One of those grey heat cycles I've heard so much about? I get it, you probably wanted some privacy. Well just don't go laying your larvae all over my desk! Wouldn't want them gnawing through the veneer! Ha!”

Despite your embarrassing position, you can't help but crack a smile. It's a relief on its own you're not in trouble, but you're actually really glad he's taking the whole thing in good spirit. 

“Aha...No, there's no larva or anything. I'm good.” You reach down for your pants and re-dress yourself. 

“Well then, if you're all done here why don't you come with me for a break? Your appendages are good for holding extra drinks!” Phage scuttles back towards the door, and you stand up to follow him closely behind. 

“Oh!” Phage turns back around, his head tilting to look up at your face. “What was it you were calling me for when I came in?”

You gaze down at him in a few seconds of silence, all your obscene thoughts disarmed by his big adorable glasses and obliviously innocent smile. Some part of you wishes you could tell him just how much you pine for him, and truth be told, you're mentally prepared for the imminent lack of reciprocation, but you worry about him; he just has too many more important things to worry about right now for you to haphazardly drop your feelings on him. You know he at least cares about you—why not leave it at that? 

“Oh, I was just...talking to myself about how I was hoping you'd come back soon. You were gone quite a while.” 

“Ah yes,” Phage straightens his glasses before resuming his path to the door, “You know how it is. Can't risk any kind of pathogen exposure to your bioform. Come on, though! I have a few break layers to spare, and I can catch you up on my latest amazing feats in doctoring!” 

Starry eyed, you follow him out, more than happy to oblige.


End file.
